Chapter 37
thirty-seven
Georgia
The jarring thwack of metal on metal stirs me out of sleep.
I throw my blankets aside and get up, checking one window after another through bleary eyes until I find the source of the noise: Cash kneeling in the courtyard, hammering a clean board into the bottom step.
Spring seems to have taken the day off, replaced by a pale winter sky and slow-moving flurries that melt as soon as they meet the red bricks below.
At the sight of Cash hunched over his work, the back of his gray sweatshirt darkened by the thousands of little snowflakes that have been melting into it for the past who knows how long, emotion pulls at me.
Two vases of flowers—mixed purple tulips—sit on the kitchen island next to the jar of daffodils.
My brittle shell of anger softens a touch before I turn on my heel and move for the coffee maker.
Flowers can’t scrub away the words still ringing in my mind: Because it’s not your business. Still, I make enough coffee for two.
When I step out onto the deck and Cash looks up, a sheepish expression has replaced the stormy one of yesterday.
“Morning, beauty.” He sits back on his heels and scans my body from my toes to my eyes.
“Good morning.” I venture to the edge of the deck and offer him a mug of coffee.
He accepts it and takes a long sip. “Did I wake you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Good?”
Humor dances across his face, the Cash I remember returning. “I was kinda hoping you’d make an angry appearance in your sheer little bedtime lingerie.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop my smile. “I don’t wear sheer little bedtime lingerie when I’m alone.”
“Ah, so I haven’t been replaced by a man who doesn’t lose his cool and say false and extremely insensitive things yet?”
“Not yet, but auditions begin in an hour.”
A playful grin shows off his blinding-white teeth.
“Get down here.” He reaches across the chasm of the unrepaired stairs to grab me, and I let him carry me to a dry patch of bricks protected by tree cover.
There, he holds my face in his hands and studies me.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I flaked on you, and I wanted to come and make it right.
And then he was here and…I lost it. I know how lucky I am to have you, and maybe I’m not so good at handling myself when I’m reminded of that—of how every guy you pass on the street would gladly take my place and maybe even be better than me in some very minor areas of life. ”
“Such as?”
“I mean…he didn’t do a completely shit job of ripping out the rotted boards and old nails. He didn’t do a good job, either, but—”
I snort, cutting him off. “Cash. I don’t want to replace you, so it really doesn’t matter who I pass on the street or how skilled they are at building deck stairs. Know what I mean?”
“You mean you’re sweet and forgiving, and I don’t deserve you. And beautiful and sexy and better than anything I’ve ever tasted.” He kisses me, dipping his tongue inside me like he can’t resist. “And incredibly talented at—”
“Okay,” I say on a laugh. “Save it. My feet are freezing.”
He looks down at my bare toes and scoops me off the ground. “Bet I know how to warm them up.”
“You better not be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” I say as he carries me across the patio and up to the deck, easily stepping over the two missing stairs. “At least not until these toes have showered.”
He grins. “Let’s find out.”
The rest of the day speeds by. Cash commandeers my long pre-party to-do list, promising to have it complete by the end of the day, save for food-related tasks.
Other than our lunch break eating soup on the couch and watching the first third of some true crime documentary, we spend most of the day on separate sides of the house.
In the quiet, restlessness grows inside me.
Cash apologized for being confrontational in front of Aaron, but our fight wasn’t about him.
It was about us and whether I’m allowed access to the deepest part of his heart.
Not something a simple apology from either of us can fix.
By dinner, gloom has settled over me again, and this time, I don’t try to hide it. He must feel it, too, because when I put down my fork and say his name, he swallows hard and pushes his plate aside.
“When you told me Maisy’s problems are none of my business, it…”
“Hurt.”
I nod. “It hurt.”
“Bad choice of words. That’s all it was.”
“But it’s not the words. I’m not entitled to Maisy’s private struggles, but if you want what I do out of this, I am entitled to yours. I wouldn’t have cared about the stairs if I knew you were struggling with something this big.”
“Guess I was just trying to be loyal to her. It’s always been a no-brainer that I don’t share her mental health stuff with anyone unless she wants me to, you know? Just a habit.”
Despite my trying to find comfort in the words, they only sit on the surface.
I can’t blame him for keeping Maisy’s business private, but I can’t accept it either.
I can’t accept being on the outside after he’s sworn to me that nothing matters more to him than what I need.
“What I haven’t told you is how much it meant to me when you said I could be part of your family. ”
“I’ve never had to share myself with anyone other than my sister. I thought it’d be easier.”
Tilting my head to the side, I consider his response, then brace myself for the answer to my next question. “Do you really want to share yourself with someone other than her?”
He lifts his head, his eyes finally meeting mine. “Of course I do. You.”
“Because—” Tears spring to my eyes before I can finish.
Cash pushes his chair back and hurries to my side, drawing me into his arms. Safely there, I don’t fight the tears.
“I put on a good show of acting like I know how to be the perfect boyfriend,” he says, stroking my hair. “Truth is, you’re the first girl I’ve ever loved, and I’m still figuring shit out. You are my girl. You are my family. And you will never be on the outside again.”
But for all his sincerity, doubt clings to me. If only good intentions were enough.